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About the artwork
This artwork has been added by an Arthive user, if it violates copyright please tell us.
Art form: Painting
Subject and objects: Allegorical scene, Literary scene
Style of art: Symbolism, Surrealism
Technique: Oil
Materials: Canvas
Region: Tbilisi
Location: Zaza Papidze

Description of the artwork «Chikara»

The Georgian: a tale of Chikara
It was what it was and what was not, and was not. There was a little boy. Died in his mother. The father grieved-grieved for it and brought home another, vicious.
Disliked stepmother of the stepson: "'ll Finish— I think— the boy with the light, then the husband one I love will be." And lost to the boy, if he didn't have a true friend. It was Chikara, great good bull. The morning brought his boy on a green meadow, there to pass the evening, and in hot weather hid Cicero in shadow or bathed him in the river. And next to the other boy forgot his sorrow.
See stepmother: not to get rid of her stepson, while he Tsikaroi friendly. And pretended to be sick. Lies and moans. Scared husband.
— How can I help? asks.
— Oh, hubby, moaning stepmother— weld you're my heart Zicari and his liver. I'll eat them and just get better.
Day passes, two, three, doesn't get the cunning stepmother of bed, crying, sighs, and look to die.
Nothing to do. Took a father with a large knife and began to sharpen it on a rock, only sparks showered.
Saw this boy and asked:
— Father, why do you need such a big knife? What did you grind?
— You see, son,— answers the father, ' should I Cicero to kill.
— Wait, father,— asked the boy,— I'll give it one last time.
Took the boy to Cicero to the Creek, watered him, and he is crying. Suddenly he hears a human voice:
— Why are you crying, buddy? What a disaster happened to you?
The boy looked around, no one. "Well,— thinks,— it seemed to me this voice." And Chikara looks at his friend's clever eyes, as if waiting for a response.
— Oh, Chikara, Chikara, want to kill you, ' said the boy.
— You know, my friend, 'replied the voice,' I know that without me, life won't be.
The boy realized that this Cikara talking to him.
— You'd better run off home, ' said Cikara,— bring a jug of water, a comb, Yes the grindstone, get on my back, make a run for it.
The boy did so. He took the pitcher, comb, Yes the grindstone, mounted on Cicero, and they sped away.
I waited and waited father, went to the Creek — there's not a boy, nor Zicari. Found out about this stepmother, is instantly jumped out of bed, opened the barn, brought out a great big pig with terrible fangs and tells her:
— Go for a boy and Zikaras, catch them and kill them!
Running pig, fangs, glows like a sabre, is about to catch up.
Chikara heard the thud, looked back and shouted to the boy:
— Trouble, my friend! Death behind. Rather throw water out of a jug.
Splashed the boy with water, he stood behind a stormy sea, and she sails the sea pig, chokes, snout-wave whips.
Far off friends, while the pig swam across the sea. Calm down boy, and Cikara says:
— Well, look around, not see anything? The boy turned his head and responds:
— Something similar to a fly is seen, not crawling, not flying.
Is a pig! — shouted Tikara.
And the pig here. Is about to catch up to Cicero.
— Leave more of a ridge! — shouted Tikara.
The boy threw a comb, and stood behind them the whole forest. Yes so thick that it even the mouse tail will not turn. And the pig, know yourself, cut the forest of sharp fangs, making her way through the thicket.
Again friends from her sped away. Yes, was not long to enjoy them. The boy looked around and saw once again appeared in the distance something like a fly, not crawling, not flying. He had to say about this Cicare like a pig again, right there, screams, grunts, fangs, sparkles, is about to catch up.
— Drop the knife! — shouted Tikara.
The boy threw the knife. And raised a pig before a steep bare cliff to the sky. Was a pig to cut stone fangs to do your rock step. Step by step, lo and behold, the pig is already on the top of the cliff. Clocked a pig fell into the abyss, carried away our grief.
Now friends can be and breath. They went into the open field to a high poplar. Such a high that its tip touches the clouds.
— I will go— says Cikara will walk across the field, weed eat, strength will strengthen. And you, my friend, climb a tree. On the upper branch attached to two pipes, one funny, one sad. Sit on the branch, look do not come down without me. Will be bored, play on the merry organ, will fly to you, birds will bring food and drink, a beautiful butterfly will fly, I will dance to your music. But if you need me, take a sad flute before you play it, as I will appear before you.
The boy climbed to the top of a poplar, stripped the branches cheerful whistle, puts it to his lips, blew, and all around sang, danced.
And it was necessary to hear him play a shepherd. He went on the sound of the flute, was under the tree, looked up, saw sitting in a tree the boy playing the flute, and around the beautiful butterflies are dancing, birds are circling, chirping, boy sing along.
There would be a shepherd to dance, to have fun, Yes he was a man angry, jealous. And evil people rejoice in the misfortunes of others. So I conceived a shepherd to take the boy his joy.
— Come down— he says— from the tree show me his pipes. But no matter how much I begged the shepherd boy was sitting on a branch. Because of Chikara told him to come down from the poplar trees.
Came the angry shepherd to the Palace and tells the king:
— So supposedly and so, your Majesty. Sitting on top of a poplar boy, playing the flute, and his music fun to the whole world. I wanted to bring him here so he amused, but he doesn't want to.
— What do you want? — angry king.— Hey, servants! Immediately remove the boy from the tree and put in jail!
The servants sent for the boy, an old witch. Goes the witch, one hand pulling a small goat, and the other is holding awl. She stood under the poplar tree and started to chop the goat with an awl. Hurt the goat, it bleats so piteously that the boy stopped playing and shouted to the old woman of the tree:
— Grandma, grandma, what are you doing? Why goat?
— Oh, boy— meets-witch, to kill her want for lunch, but did not can. Kindly help me, and I will die of hunger.
Sorry boy, the old woman came down from the tree. The witch held a hand over his hair, and fell asleep boy. He rushed the king's men grabbed him and took. But the flute remained hanging on the branch.
The boy woke up in jail. Nine around the prison walls, in each wall a strong door, each door safety lock.
She remembered the boy about the flute, about his friend Cicero and cried. Suddenly he saw a crow.
— Raven, crow! — shouted the boy.— Where are you going? What's the hurry? For the happiness of their children fly in an open field to a tall poplar tree, cut the branches of my pipe, bring me!
— Who stones at me threw? — said Raven.— No, better sit here behind nine locks, and even my children showered stones!
The crow flew away. The boy even more sad. Suddenly he saw a Sparrow.
— Sparrow, Sparrow, for the life of their baby birds fly in the open field to the high poplar, fetch me my flute— asked the boy.
— And who we, the sparrows, the network arranged? Who are our passerine nests were destroyed?— said the Sparrow.— No, for my Chicks better if you stay here for nine locks.
Flew the Sparrow, and the boy even more sad. Sees — flying swallow. She sang the boy a song. Sings, and tears poured from his eyes.

Swallow, swallow,
Swallow-kasatochka!
You fly-field
Sit on the branch of a poplar,
Bring me two of the flute.
They and grief and joy.
Sad flute cries —
A true friend to me is coming:
And cheerful sing —
The whole world go to dance!

Pitied him swallow and brought both the boy and his pipe. Took the boy a sad flute, put it to her lips, blew, and cried the flute. I heard her Chikara and ran to the boy. First door broke, the second was shot down, the third took off. The fourth was destroyed, the fifth in chips, turned, cracked the sixth, seventh smashed, broke out in the eighth and ninth doors almost died — the horn was broken at Tikari.
Become sad of Chikara: not with pity for his broken horns and sorry captive friend. Then, out of nowhere, the mouse popped up.
— I want,— speaks,— horn you prizhivlyayut? Only you have to die, and I'll eat your meat!
"Okay," agreed Chikara,— prizeplay soon! Prijavila mouse has a broken horn. Chikara rushed forward, kicked the door, framed the boy's back and both of them only saw.
Again the boy climbed to the top of the poplar. Took leave of him and of Chikara as if nothing had happened went to the field.
Boy sitting in a tree, playing on the merry organ, but suddenly the melancholy attacked him, I wanted him to Cicero to see. He took a sad flute plays another hour, and Zicari yet. What to do? Tears the boy from poplar, went to look for his friend. Searched-searched and found it in the middle of the lawn dead. The boy clung to the body of Tikari, crying, filled, Yes, so bitter that the grass stopped growing, the birds no longer chirped, flowers bloomed, butterflies tears dropped.
— Zicara my Chikara! — crying boy.— How to live without you? Suddenly, out of nowhere, popped up the mouse. For lunch she came, bovine meat to feast on. Saw the mouse, as killed the boy, and said to him:
— Want me to revive your Cicero? Only you will die, and I'll eat your meat.
— Let me die, ' said the boy,— if only Chikara was alive.
Ran the mouse across the lawn, found some grass, rubbed her Tikaro, he came back to life. He embraced the boy to Cicero, pats it, pats, kisses, and Chikara no-no boy lick his big tongue.
— Well, that's enough! said the mouse boy.— It is time for thee to die, and then I just got hungry!
She ran across the lawn, found the grass-sending, brought her
in the teeth and takes the boy. Took the boy weed-sending, the last time looked at Chikaru. "Nothing,— thinks,— I will die, but my friend is saved!"
But the little boy held it to his mouth a deadly weed, as the mouse stopped him.
— Wait! says.— How I live, and friends like you've never seen. So be it! I give you life. Live forever!
He said and disappeared in the grass.
The boy sat astride Cicero, and they rushed off to other places, where there is no evil shepherd, nor cunning witch. They found another field and another poplar, even higher still. Chikara runs across the field, nibbling the grass, and the boy sitting on the top of the poplar trees, playing on the merry organ, he is happy and the whole world cheers. And he put it to his lips sad flute as Chikara at the same moment appears before him.
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